


8 - "how much"

by cyn_00



Series: Moreid one shots [8]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Related, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Trauma, Episode: s08e18 Restoration, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Derek Morgan, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Canon Relationship, One Shot, One Shot Collection, POV Alternating, POV Derek, POV Spencer Reid, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyn_00/pseuds/cyn_00
Summary: Angsty fic where Reid comforts Morgan, based onseason 8, episode 18("Restoration")
Relationships: Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Series: Moreid one shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1746199
Comments: 3
Kudos: 149





	8 - "how much"

**Author's Note:**

> Tw: mentions of Derek's past abuse - it's kind of obvious because the episode deals with that. **Update:** goes unsaid that I partially re-wrote this as well as many others (I do that from time to time heh)

_This is the episode where the team is in Chicago and the unsub was one of the kids molested by Carl Buford, so Morgan is obviously really involved. At the end of it, after Derek finds out on the jet that Buford is dead_

_[Link to the same fic on Tumblr](https://cyn-00.tumblr.com/post/615182611197935616/moreid-one-shot-8) _

* * *

"Yes. Uh uh. No I understand, thank you for keeping me posted. I appreciate that."

Silence, following that call. Everybody looking at Morgan, waiting for him to say something - anything really. The look on his face was indecipherable, a mix of relief and uncomfort, and wanting to cry or break something or preferably both.

"...Buford is dead."

That was all he said. Not when, not how.

He kept his look out of the window of the jet, like meeting his friends' eyes could trigger an emotional response way too overwhelming for any of them to handle in that moment.

They all stared at him without making a single sound, not knowing what they were supposed to say, what he was expecting to hear from them. Not even Reid: his eyes remained glued to him for a while, unable to get back to reading his book with that lump in his throat suffocating him.

As soon as they got off the jet, Morgan vanished. Everyone thought he'd probably quickly got to his office to pick up his stuff and head home, without talking to anyone. But when the rest of the team entered the bullpen through the glass doors, they saw him, not in his office, but sitting at Reid's desk; elbows on his knees and eyes stuck on the floor.

Reid stopped walking and stared for a while from afar, frozen, deciding what to do; while the others headed to their desks and offices silently, not even able to small talk after what Morgan had announced.

Spencer felt a light touch on his shoulder. He turned around.

"He needs _you_ , Spence." JJ's soft voice spoke sense into him. "It only works with you."

That last statement left Spencer a bit confused, but he nodded anyway, replying with a sad but grateful smile as she walked away.

His friend's encouraging words and a few more minutes of waiting were enough for Spencer to finally gather the nerve of walking toward the man.

Once he'd approached his own desk, he stood still and carefully looked down at his boyfriend, hunched on himself; waiting for him to notice his presence. But Morgan didn't move a single finger.

"...I thought you ran home." he said, softly.

Derek finally tilted his chin up to face him, straightening a little in his seat: he wasn't crying, but he did look upset. Still: the crack in Spencer's heart couldn't but widen at the damaged look on his usually warm, handsome face.

"Yeah I thought of that, but I- I feel like I need to...talk. To _you_."

Few seconds of silence.

"You really don't _have_ to talk to me about it if you don't want to..." Spencer pointed out a bit nervously.

Derek didn't answer. He just stood up from the chair with his hands in his leather jacket pockets, staring straight into the other's brown eyes, with a look that said: _"Please"._ Spencer answered with a nod.

Except for Hotch and Rossi, both in the former's office, the rest of the team had quickly got home: it was 11:30 pm. As for the other employees, they simply didn't have such a crazy schedule, so the bureau was empty. However, Morgan didn't feel like talking there, so he headed toward his office, Reid following without questioning.

Derek closed the door behind him, not bothering about the blinds, nor turning the light on. He sat on the black leather couch in the corner of the room, looking down at the floor as his elbows dug further in the holes they'd already carved earlier in his thighs.

Spencer put his satchel on the floor and stood there, 5 ft from him, with his hands in the pockets of his jacket: he had a feeling it was going to be a few minutes before Derek could feel like talking. But that was ok. That was the point: being there, silently or not.

The complete but slightly discomforting quiet, the dim light pervading the room coming from the bullpen, but most of all the presence of Spencer that made him feel like he was allowed to finally let go, weren't helping Derek from trying not to burst out crying. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and face down in the attempt to avoid that.

He accidentally let out a sniffle that gave Spencer the final clue that he was, in fact, about to cry. He buried his face in his palm, failing to stop the tears from falling any longer: he got "caught", there was nothing left to hide, at that point.

Spencer gulped. Before that, he had admittedly failed to pick up on how uncomfortable his boyfriend must have felt and how serious that situation was. He just wished he had the power to hug him tight and put the outer world on a pause while Derek let himself crumble down into smithereens; and then whisper comforting words in his ear while he fixed him, piece by piece, bit by bit, until he was somewhat whole again.

"Derek..." he murmured, feeling like his knees were wobbling under his weight at the sight of him like... _that_.

Spencer finally sat down next to him on the couch, not too close neither touching him. He knew the odds of Derek reacting well to physical comfort right after he exposed himself crying were few. He ran the statistics in his mind. Plus, he knew him. So he just sat there.

"I don't know why I'm reacting like this to the death of the man who ruined my childhood." Derek finally managed to say, a bit coldly, still eyeing down at the floor.

"I should be happy or at least relieved. That's what you're probably thinking." he added, pulling himself together just enough to find the courage to face Spencer; a deeply concerned but attentive look on his face.

"I'm thinking that you shouldn't beat yourself up for feeling whatever you are feeling right now." he answered reasonably, and quite frankly Derek wasn't expecting it.

Receiving no answer, Spencer continued. "I think," he paused, clearing his voice "I think that there's no right or wrong way for you to feel about it, because..." he paused again, contemplating whether he should mention Buford's name or maybe it was better not to.

"...cause Buford was never _just_ an unsub for you." He mentioned him anyway, but stopped right there, staying vague, without openly addressing the fact that Buford had in some way been a father figure for Derek, when he was a kid. He didn't know how Derek would react to that: if he'd agree and see what his point was; or accuse him of justifying Buford's actions, in a small percentage.

Morgan didn't retort. He knew what Reid meant, and that what he meant made sense; nonetheless he couldn't erase those feelings of guilt and frustration and sickness that were possessing him. He nodded briefly and got back to facing the ground.

Spencer thought that it was the right moment for him to finally touch him without the risk of him flinching back. So he gently put his hand on the back of Derek's neck, stroking it with his thumb and looking at him with sad eyes.

The second Derek felt the comfort of his soft touch, he felt like crying again, like he had pressed some kind of vulnerable button. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, letting out a heavy breath accompanied by a faint whine that he'd been trying so hard to keep buried down in the pit of his lungs.

"He should've rot in prison. What I said to the press gave him a way out." he paused and faced the other way, looking at the empty bullpen through the blinds. "It's- it's like he got what he wanted from me for the millionth time." he concluded, his voice hoarse and shaky.

Spencer understood, from his choice of words - _he got what he wanted from me_ \- that he was comparing that to the specific act of the abuse. The way he said it and the change in his demeanor - usually strong, both physically and emotionally - made Spencer's heart ultimately shatter and its fragments fall down to his stomach; and his eyes tingle. But he couldn't let himself go like that - he had to suck it up and support him. That's what Derek needed him to do in that moment; that's what Derek was always ready to do for Spencer, so it was only fair that he at least _tried_.

Reid switched position from sitting on the couch to kneeling on the floor right in front of him, in between his legs, so that he couldn't avoid his gaze anymore. He cupped his face in his hands to make their eyes meet again.

"You know that's not true." he asserted, pausing to let him process such statement and wiping off with his thumb a tear that managed to escape from one of Derek's eyes.

"He stopped getting what he wanted from you the moment you got out of that block and started becoming the man you are now. Catching people like him."

"He doesn't have to spend the rest of his life in jail now, does he? I did him NOTHING but a favor. And I didn't even notice, just like when I was a kid." Derek instantly blurted out.

"Derek why are you being so naive right now??" Spencer asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer. He saw the man in front of him imperceptibly flinch at his tone, so he took a deep breath and explained.

"Don't you understand that if you hadn't made that speech to the press, his true identity would've remained secret to everyone? He was counting on restoring his reputation by becoming _someone else_. You SAW that, Derek." Spencer paused once again to lower his voice further - he didn't wanna come off as aggressive, but he wanted so hard to make him _see_ what his eyes weren't seeing; clouded by his own trauma doubling back to him like a punch in the guts.

"The only person you did NOT do a favor to with what you said, it's _him_." he concluded.

Derek knew he was right. But - despite him being the one always talking sense into everybody - when it came to the abuse he suffered as a kid there was a small, hidden part of him that just couldn't help but feel guilty and subdued and victimized all over again.

He gently took Spencer's hands, still cupping his face, and put them down, looking at the floor. He felt in some way sorry for him, wasting his time, trying to convince him of the falsity of things that were so deeply rooted in his mind that not even his purest and most unconditional demonstration of love and support could conceal. But he knew it wasn't Spencer's fault and that he in the first place didn't have that kind of demand.

Spencer was hurt, but swallowed the words before they could come out. He figured that gesture meant he had to come to terms with the fact that there was nothing more he could say to him, to make him feel any better.

"Is that how I won?" Derek mumbled after a while, his deep voice piercing through the thick silence.

Spencer frowned apprehensively. "What do you mean?"

"I- I won because he _died_? Was his death the only possible way for me to find a crumb of...I don't even know, of- of _peace_ ?" Derek explained, looking straight into his eyes again, searching in Spencer's caramel irises for those answers that he already knew but needed someone external to say out loud.

"You won the second you realized you were no longer scared of letting other people know about what he did to you." Spencer replied lucidly, with no hesitation what so ever. "The first time being when you told _us_ , and the second when you told the press. And the third exactly 23 minutes ago, when you chose to wait for me to talk about it instead of going home and closing me out." He paused. "and I honestly don't know how you did any of that but-" he swallowed and waited a second for the courage to say it to arise in him. "but I'm so proud of you I- I don't think you realize _how much_ I am."

Spencer's hand instinctively made its way back to the other's cheek, stroking it with his thumb; uncaring of how it had been rejected earlier.

"You won when you finally understood that you _are_ worth healing." he concluded in an almost whisper; eyes becoming glossy at the slight changes in expression on Derek's face.

Spencer wanted to do more than just brush a digit on his cheek, he wanted to hug him but guessed it wouldn't be the smartest choice. So he just stayed like that, gazing into Derek's eyes, with the other hand resting on his own thigh while his knees started to get sore from being in that position for the past 10 minutes.

Derek was speechless. After a seemingly endless silence, he reached his hand out to gently tuck Spencer's hair behind his ear.

"I- _I love you_. And I don't think you realize _how much_ I do." he finally murmured, with watery eyes, purposely half-quoting what the other had just said.

Spencer's heart melted when he felt his touch and those words coming out so genuinely and uncensored. He slightly tilted his head to lean into such warmth, putting his hand over his and kissing his palm without breaking eye contact.

Derek craned to inch closer and made Spencer do the same by pulling him slowly toward him, with his hand placed on the back of his neck. He closed his eyes and softly pushed his lips into his, finally allowing himself to fully seek comfort in his touch.

He shifted forward so that he was sitting on the very edge of the couch, to eliminate whatever inch of air was left between their bodies, letting Spencer's arms slide up his torso and end up wrapping tight around his waist underneath his leather jacket, left unzipped; as if he was afraid Derek would let him go and run away - which he would _never_ do. He would _never_ let him go.

Both his hands on Spencer's jaw, Derek could feel it unhooking, which he took as a silent permission to let his burning tongue find its way into his mouth, melting when it collided with his; sinking in the warmth of only his slim body in a way he didn't know he needed and didn't know he could.

Spencer slid a hand up front to place it on Derek's chest; slitting a narrow gap between their bodies as a sign to stop, being completely out of air.

They looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds; arms still tying them together even if not so breathlessly tight as a few seconds before.

Spencer shifted slightly to lower his head and let it rest on the other's shoulder, nuzzling his nose and lips against Derek's neck; while Derek soothingly ran his fingers through his curls, tilting his own head to lean into the shock of brunette hair.

"You scared me." Spencer's whispery words blowing warm air on Derek's skin.

"I know. I didn't mean to." he answered in a heavy sigh; Spencer's head cradled by the up-and-down movements of the other man's chest as he inhaled and exhaled deeply.

They stayed like that for a while, for as long as it took Spencer to start wondering what time it was. He gently let go of him - not that he got tired of it - and checked his watch: midnight.

"Wow. It's late." he stood up, helping himself by holding onto Derek's knees. As soon as he got back on his feet, his face wrinkled in a faint grimace of pain.

"Look what you did to me. I can't feel my legs anymore." he said jokingly, realizing only after a couple of seconds that that wasn't the usual context in which he used such phrase...would've been better if he hadn't let that slip out, he thought.

"Alright. My place? Is that enough to make it up to you or your legs?" Derek asked mockingly as he stood up too, finally showing him that smile of his that Spencer was starting to miss like oxygen in his lungs; confirming that his previous - _stupid_ \- comment had either gone unnoticed or hadn't bothered him that much after all.

Even though Spencer was definitely not one to like change, he clearly preferred staying at his boyfriend's place rather than his own. His house was more comfortable and obviously way less messy, but those were just a couple of superficial reasons, he himself couldn't quite put his finger on it - despite his profiling skills, which just gave him answers that didn't sound accurate enough in his heart.

After a few seconds of hesitation - not due to indecision, rather to the brief short-circuit his brain was put through when he saw Derek's blinding smile - he grinned back and nodded, picking up his bag while the other opened the door.

Right in the moment they got out of the room, they saw that Rossi had just exited the bullpen, heading to the elevator. God knows what kind of conversation had taken him so long with Hotch, still in his office and probably not even halfway with all the paperwork.

During those couple minutes Derek took to search for the office keys in his pockets and lock the door; Spencer stared at him, leaning with his shoulder on the wall, fiddling with the buckle of his leather satchel.

Derek put the keys back in his biker jacket pocket and raised his eyes to look at him.

"...What?" he asked, feeling his gaze on him.

"Nothing." Spencer answered shaking his head and dropping his eyes, standing straight again.

He tried not to smile, not only failing but moreover making Derek slightly smile too, even being yet clueless to what he was going to be told.

"I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @cyn-00


End file.
